


Road Trip - Reddie

by TheChipLife7



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Awkward Crush, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Sexual Situations, Best Friends, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Comic Books, First Kiss, M/M, Oblivious Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier is a Little Shit, Road Trips, Senior year, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Sonia Kaspbrak's A+ Parenting, Spring Break 1993, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:21:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23623816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheChipLife7/pseuds/TheChipLife7
Summary: The trip was planned so that each loser got to choose one destination.Everyone assumed Richie had picked LA because he wanted to move out there some day, to try his big mouth on the big screen and see where the fuck that was going to take him. But, Richard Tozier had a secret… well, he had many secrets, to be clear. There was the one about how his retainer gave him a lisp, so he only wore it at night, as well as the secret about how his gpa is not a prime number, as he claims it to be (although, the losers club were well aware of his 4.0)Oh yeah, and there was that secret about how he was completely in love with his best friend, Eddie Kaspbrak.But he was more focused on the one secret he has yet to tell a soul: that he booked an audition in LA.Okay, sure, the boy isn’t daft enough to believe he will actually get the part as an opening act for Dave Chappelle’s comedy tour-- but whether or not he succeeds in this audition will help him with an ultimately larger decision.Whether or not to dorm at UCLA with Eddie Kaspbrak and follow his dreams, or accept his acceptance to MIT’s Biological and biomedical science program.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 42
Kudos: 62





	1. One - Lets Get this Shit-Show on the Road!

Watching the hand of the clock move at a speed that could only be described as slothlike was the most frustrating thing in the world to Eddie Kaspbrak, whose ADHD made his brain move impossibly faster than his mouth. Only 30 seconds until it was official. Spring break. Senior year. One car. Seven losers. It all meant one thing; road trip. 

They had spent weeks planning, months saving up extra cash. Stan had worked overtime to get in his parent’s good graces, and it paid off--in the form of keys to his aunt’s RV. That was his contribution. The RV was pretty big, having a curtain that separates the driver from the lounge area. There were two couches that pulled out to attach into one big bed that sleeps four, and another bunk bed in the back. The bunk beds were in a closed off room for more privacy, which was most likely designed for children to sleep in while the adults were still up. A bathroom was also in the back of the RV, across from the bedroom. To top it all off, there was a TV and minifridge in the lounge for entertainment. 

Ben’s contribution was the entertainment. He had managed to collect a shelves worth of only the best movies: Beetlejuice, The Shining, Heathers, Stand by Me, Back to the Future, a Star Wars collection. Dirty Dancing, The Breakfast Club, Risky Business, Rocky, Beauty and the Beast.. Almost too many for them to watch in the two weeks. He had also brought cards, a few board games, and a radio.

Eddie knew he would not be able to contribute much. His mother was under the impression that he was spending the break with Bill’s family at their beach house in Cape Cod. She had barely agreed to that. So, Eddie supplied a bag full of Snacks and a first aid kit that was top notch. 

Beverly, Bill, Richie, and Mike brought the money. After months of saving whatever wasn’t going towards college funds, they pooled together $640 -- $300 from Beverly and Richie’s jobs at the movie theater, $100 from Bill’s babysitting business, $190 from pretty much all of Mike’s savings, and $50 from Mrs. Kaspbrak (supposedly going to Bill’s mom for Eddie’s expenses)

And of course, the destination? Well, there were seven. The trip was planned so that each loser got to choose one destination. First, they would be going to Eddie’s pick; New York City. Following this would be the long drive to Chicago, where Ben planned an architecture tour, then LA.

Everyone assumed Richie had picked LA because he wanted to move out there some day, to try his big mouth on the big screen and see where the fuck that was going to take him. But, Richard Tozier had a secret… well, he had many secrets, to be clear. There was the one about how his retainer gave him a lisp, so he only wore it at night, as well as the secret about how his gpa is not a prime number, as he claims it to be (although, the losers club were well aware of his 4.0)

Oh yeah, and there was that secret about how he was completely in love with his best friend, Eddie Kaspbrak. 

But he was more focused on the one secret he has yet to tell a soul: that he booked an audition in LA.

Okay, sure, the boy isn’t daft enough to believe he will actually get the part as an opening act for Dave Chappelle’s comedy tour-- but whether or not he succeeds in this audition will help him with an ultimately larger decision.

Whether or not to dorm at UCLA with Eddie Kaspbrak and follow his dreams, or accept his acceptance to MIT’s Biological and biomedical science program. 

After LA, they would drive to Arizona for Bill’s request of the Grand Canyon. Then would follow Beverly’s pick, the hot springs of Arkansas, Stan’s choice of Disney--he wanted Mike to see Florida-- and last but not least, Mike’s choice, Washington, DC. 

3… 2… 

The school bell was nothing in comparison to the volume of the student's cheers. Spring Break, at long last, had arrived.

And just like that, it felt like 8th grade again, flying out of their individual classroom doors, and uniting in a larger group that walked the halls together. Eddie, Beverly and Bill had been exiting their STATS class, Ben, Richie, and Stan leaving AP Calculus. The schedules had been set up purposefully by the group, to time it so that their last block classes would all take place in the same hallway. It made the day feel.. more comfortable maybe? Knowing that when that stupid fucking clock hits 2:20, out they would all be pushed, right towards each other.

“Hal-le-fuckin-lujah,” Richie announced, “Spring break couldn’t have come at a better time! I swear to god, when Mrs. Sanders bent over to pick up that marker, I could see her ovaries!” He gags, Stan whacking him upside the head due to the boy’s obnoxious volume. 

“I thought you had eyes for overweight women in their fifties,” Stanley points out, smirking a bit in Eddie’s direction. 

“Nope!” Richie’s laugh bounds through the crowded hallway. “Mrs. K is one of a kind, a soul mate situation, you could say. I could never look at the rolls of another women with such--” 

“Beep beep, Dickwad!” Eddie cuts in sharply at the tall and lanky boy beside him. “And my mother is in her late forties, fuck off Stan.” 

Ben walks through the middle of Richie and Eddie, a good call as he observes Richie’s hand moving towards Eddie’s hair, while Eddie looks like he could bit one of Richie’s fingers off. 

Eddie’s spirit animal was definitely a dog, Richie thought. One minute, his large eyes are cute as buttons, practically whispering ‘feed me, pet me. Love me’ and then, 10 minutes and some badly timed jokes later, well, Richie wouldn’t be surprised if he was foaming at the mouth. 

And god, did he love it. 

“So, for the last time,” Bill says as they all make their way towards the exit of the building. “Since Richie definitely wah-wasn’t listening at lunch.”

“Okay, could you blame me?” Richie intervenes. “This punk was kicking me under the table.” Richie laughs, nodding towards Eddie. 

Actually, he was trying to play footsie, when Richie responded with a whack to his ankle. Then, it was on.

“Yeah, yeah,” Beverly speaks. “Just let Bill speak.”

“Thank y-you. Now, I will be picking Eddie up first because his mom thinks I’m driving him to my house so we cah-can leave with my parents early in the morning for Cape Cod. We will all meet up at Stan’s house at 7:00, lug-lug-luggage and ready to go by 7:15--”

“7:45” Stan cuts in. “My parents are making us all dinner before we go.” 

“Okay, 7:45.” Bill corrects himself. “On the road tonight, I’m duh-doing the first driving turn, we should be parked somewhere in Vermont by half past midnight. Ben’s got to be up at 7 to drive so we can be in N-N-NYC by noon.”

Eddie tries to contain his excited squeal, but his face gives it away, and its fucking cute Richie thinks. Its really fucking cute.

“Alright.” Bill mounts his bike. “See you l-losers tonight.” and he rides off. 

“What a dork.” Stan says affectionately, giggling a bit. And they are all biking their separate ways. 

-

Eddie remembers Bill’s words. “Two weeks, one bag. We don’t have eno-enough room for more” 

He tries to keep this in mind as he packs the same shorts he was wearing years ago. He brings mainly t-shirts, one sweater for the colder days, and a pair of sweatpants he stole once from Richie that still hang low on his waist, despite being too long. His pajamas are simple, fuzzy bottoms and a flannel he stole from Bill. He brought one nice outfit-- moron jeans and a tight fitting white shirt in case they did something fancy. In the top part of his suitcase, Eddie kept his bathroom bag. This has his personal shampoo and conditioner, tooth brush, tooth paste, nightly meds, condoms (which he didn’t plan to use, but brought anyways-- even if it was mainly to show off that he actually had seen one before, since the losers didn’t believe him last time the topic was brought up), and his backup aspirator. Next to this is some entertainment stuff-- a stack of comics that barely fit, and the gameboy Richie got him for his birthday two years ago. 

Finally, hidden in that bag is one thing that Eddie doesn’t want the losers to know about. Eddie’s teddy…

He knew that he shouldn’t need the dumb thing anymore, being freshly seventeen years old, but that didn’t change the fact that when he woke up in a cold sweat, remembering the things it did, the faces that clown made, his teddy bear was always there to cry into. 

So, with his fanny pack strapped on around Eddie’s hips, and his suitcase zipped up, Eddie was ready to embark on the second most important journey of his young life thus far. 

He was ready for New York. 

After being constantly cramped up in this room in the middle of buttfuck nowhere for the first 17 years of his life. Eddie had finally decided that he was moving out of Maine for college.

This of course terrified Mrs. Kaspbrak, who begged him constantly to give up UCLA for Derry Community College. 

But somehow, he had survived a demonic clown from the pits of hell, so he could deal with a forty-eight year old woman who carries benadryl around like a purse. 

Despite choosing LA for College, Eddie found himself drawn to the city that never sleeps. Maybe it was because of the bright lights and busy streets, or the fact that it's nicknamed the big apple, and well, an apple a day keeps the doctors away. But Eddie couldn’t go to college there. It was too close. His mother would visit monthly, no, biweekly. 

So, he chose the other city where dreams came true. 

Eddie’s watch beeped with an alarm-- it was 6:30. Bill was here. 

He picked up his bags, walking out through the hall towards the exit. He thought that maybe he could slip out quietly, and his mother wouldn’t even know that he ‘forgot’ to kiss her goodbye. He made it as far as the porch steps when he heard the squeak of the recliner. Well. shit. 

Bill helped Eddie toss his stuff into the back seat of the car his parents bought him for his 16th birthday. It wasn’t great, but the old motor had a charm about it that reminded the losers of Bill’s bike, Silver. Bill had named his car the winter soldier after the time he and Eddie got it stuck in a snowbank, and all Eddie could do was shout out meaningless comic book references. 

Mrs. Kaspbrak wobbled over to the boys, smiling as she called. “Eddie, William, come over here before you leave.” Although she did not like the majority of Eddie’s friends, there were two exceptions. She had been friends with Bill’s mother since the two enrolled in preschool, so naturally, she was fond of the quiet and polite boy. Secondly, she thought that Stanley Uris was a very clean and proper boy scout. If it were up to her, she would have never let Richie join their trio in middle school. 

“Yes ma’am” Bill paused, closing the car door. He lined up in front of her with Eddie, letting the woman inspect him like he assumed that she would. For this soul purpose, he had worn nice, clean jeans, a polo shirt, and hand sanitizer that Eddie gave him for Christmas in his pocket, clearly sticking out.

“You boys be safe..” She says, and for a moment, she almost sounds like a real, normal, caring mother. “Don’t eat anything that looks weird, and don’t go anywhere without the Denbroughs. Eddie will be sleeping in his own bed, correct William?” She asks. 

“Yuh-yuh-yes ma’am.” Bill reassures her. “The guest room has t-two twin beds fuh-for Eddie and I,” he says, not even feeling guilty for his lies. He looks too excited. 

“And you gave me the number to call in case I need to get in touch with Eddie?” She asks. 

“Yes mummy,” Eddie says. It's actually the phone attached to the RV, but at this point, Richie had nailed the Mrs. Denbrough impression to the point of consistently fooling Sonia, with the occasional help of Beverly to laugh out high notes. 

“Okay. I love you, Eddie-Bear. Here are the treats I packed for you too,” Sonia says, handing him the bag. Then she goes off, “make sure that you are taking all of your meds, morning and night. And use sunblock at the beach, you don’t want melanoma, do you? And don’t stay in the ocean too long or your skin might get itchy from the salt water. You wouldn’t want a rash when I’m not there to fix it. The vitamins are very important for your immune system. Even when you are in the sun you have to take vitamin D pills, Eddie. And stay where the water hits only up to your waist because if you get one of your asthma attacks in the ocean, oh god, the current could drag you right out to sea! Stay close with Bill, he will keep you safe. And don’t talk to the girls you meet there, especially the ones in those god awful bikinis that show too much skin. They may be carrying diseases, and you don’t want herpes because you decided to go in for one kiss, now do you Eddie?”

And with that, Eddie leans up and kisses her cheek, smiling a little through his embarrassment. “I know. I love you mommy,” he responds, quickly getting into the car after that. 

If it had been in front of anyone else, Eddie may have passed out, cried even. But he just didn’t feel embarrassed around Bill. He was too close with the light haired boy. So, as soon as they drove away, the two shared a triumphant look and cheered instead. “We did it!” Eddie announced.

-

At ten past seven they were all on the sidewalk, awaiting one glasses-bearing dipshit. 

“Where the hell is Richie?” Stanly grumbles, looking up and down the road that Richie was clearly not on.

“Ho-how is this possible? He, he lives closest to you!” Bill says, face palming in sync with Stanley. 

“That’s it. I’m not waiting,” Eddie declares, and opens the door to the minivan. It was a moment that they were all supposed to have together. Walking into the vehicle where they would be sleeping for most of the next two weeks. But, Trashmouth would have to live without that experience.

As Eddie ascended the stairs, he had one thought. Thank god it was Stan. Thank the damn heavens that this RV was under Stanley’s watch for the last two weeks. It was spotless. The OCD boy had clearly both only cleaned everything, but decorated a bit too. This place… it had an aesthetic to it. 

“I call the back room!” Beverly calls. “And so does Ben!” She giggled, pulling her boyfriend to claim the getaway space. None of them stop her. She is, after all, the only girl, and if she needs a place to get away for a few minutes, they’d give it to her. The losers also knew that if any of them--most likely Stan or Eddie-- needed a place to lay down, she’d let them swap spots for a bit. 

“Fine, but no funny business Marsh!” Stanley calls after her and haystack with a smile.

“Why singling me out, not a word to Ben here?” she replied with a giggle.

Mike cackles a small laugh, “Because Ben wouldn’t dare initiate anything in the first place,” he teases. 

“Rude… i think..?” Ben yells back, tossing his stiff on the bottom bunk.

Eddie walks over to the couch, noticing how the it definitely folded out as promised. He puts his suitcase on one couch. “If Richie no-shows, I call the pullout to myself,” he announces with a grin.

Stan and Mike take the other couch. “You realize that when he does show, you just volunteered yourself to share a bed with Trashmouth for the whole trip.” Mike says this, with a smile on his face. 

Oh, Eddie knows… “Oh-- shit!”

“No taking back!” Stanley calls out, setting his things down as Eddie feigns frustration as his plan goes off without a hitch. “Okay, now, lets go inside and eat. Richie will show up eventually.”

They all agreed.

7:30 rolls around, and Eddie is rolling his eyes. He is also stuffing his face with homemade lasagna, so he isn’t actually doing that bad. But then, 7:38 hits and he is no longer hungry for one of Mrs. Uris’ freshly baked cookie… okay, maybe one…

But seriously, like, where the hell can a lanky teenage boy that lives two blocks away be? He knows that the losers aren’t seriously considering leaving without him, but it still freaks Eddie out that Richie is gone to begin with. That morning he had been throwing notes at Eddie in English, the inside bearing little comics about their soon to be adventures all over the USA. He wasn’t about to flake out on the losers with no warning… 

It's 7:40 and everyone is talking about, ‘where is richie’ ‘what is richie doing’ ‘since when does richie miss a Uris home cooked meal’ when finally-- FINALLY, the boy of the hour arrives, holding a suitcase and looking… vacant.

“Where the fuck were you, you fucking moron--” Eddie starts in, but notices Richie’s puffy red eyes and stops himself

Oh…?

“Here now. You save me a cookie, Missus?” Richie calls out to Stanley's mother, who is just happy that Richie is here, because she knows…

“Of course, darling.” Hospitality drips from her tone, offering Richie one off the rack. 

“Sweet.” Richie smiles, the other losers looking at him funny. For a moment he falters. He wants Mike to hug him, Beverly to braid his hair, Ben to tell him it's okay, Bill to just protect him, Stan to rub his back, Eddie to kiss his cheek like that one time, Freshman year. He wants the human connection, the comfort. To be told he was in the right, and that no kid deserves to see what he just did. 

But this trip can’t start off on a bad note for all of them.

“Well what are you waiting for,” Richie announces. “I’m here, big bill, lead the way and get to driving.”

Eddie has a thought then.. sometimes, Richie is braver than he knows.


	2. New York

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “That was a joke Eds. But I win.” The tickle of Richie’s breath on Eddie’s neck is enough to paralyze him.   
> //  
> High key Reddie coming up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning-- homophobic language

Bill is driving, and by now, they’ve made it halfway through New Hampshire. 

Ben insisted on watching Heathers first, something about a childhood crush on Winona Ryder. The movie is almost over, and Richie seemed to finally be acting normal again.

“Hah, she’s watching him blow himself,”

Well, normal for Richie, that is.

“No, she’s watching him blow himself up because he is finally realizing that their love does not put him above others, and in his actions to fix the world by ridding it of assholes and bad people, he has become one of those bad people with a literal holier than thou attitude.” Mike explains. They all stare at him like he has two heads, but Ben looks proud. “What? I like this movie.”

“Whatever. All this shit about their love being God is why I’m an atheist.” Richie huffs.

Stanley’s head turns so fast his kippah nearly falls off. “Richie, you know that you’re Jewish, right?” 

Richie just shrugs. “Well yeah, but not like.. THAT Jewish. I didn’t even get the nose, which is one blessing I do thank the big guy for,”

“Why are we talking about Religion anyways?” Eddie asks, rolling his eyes. “Can we do something fun? It's our first time--” Richie snorts “--ON THE ROAD ALONE,” Eddie clarifies as he elbows Richie, a sharp jab to the rib cage. “I think we should do something cool.”

Honestly, though he has no problem with his friends religious beliefs, Eddie finds himself uncomfortable in the conversation. His dad was Irish, and he was raised Catholic. After his father passed, they stopped attending church, his mother only going annually on the day his father passed. Eddie had read the bible, and for a while, he believed in it. Then he grew up, and found out the more controversial side of things. Eddie discovered the prejudice within the old text.

He remembered the time that his mother’s friend, Eileen, had talked to him about the bible. She was a kinder old woman from Massachusetts, and despite being highly religious, she was also surprisingly liberal. Eileen had a son who contracted AIDS, and, despite being heterosexual, was killed in a hate crime for the accusations. 

“Bert had a wife,” Eileen had told the curious, wide eyed fourteen year old, “He was a kindhearted person, a biblical man who did not believe in cheating. The doctors believed that he had contracted it in the city by chance, just an open cut and traces of blood on a subway pole. But that's when I realized how ignorant people could be. I could be.” Eileen explained. “They killed my son, and for what? Even if he had been in bed with another man, whose place is it to say that is a crime punishable by death. All I know now is that Bert never hurt a soul. He donated to charities, made good grades. Never screwed anyone over, and despite all this, he died. Those people are human too, and they’ve got to be struggling more than we know, yet, we do not sympathize… why is that?” 

What Eddie had been given that day was an eye opening. He saw past the curtains of his bedroom, and the prejudice of his town. He saw New York City, the good, the bad, and the ugly. And despite all this, he couldn’t disconnect the two in his mind.

In Eddie’s head, despite knowing old women like Eileen exist, the Bible had an immediate connection to prejudice now. It was like whenever anyone spoke of ‘love thy neighbor’ all Eddie could think was, ‘unless thy neighbor beith a faggot’ 

Sometimes, he feared his friends' views on that subject. 

“And by cool, you mean?” Richie asks, tone sounding as if he didn’t believe Eddie knew the definition of cool.

Eddie blushed a bit, moving to sit criss cross on the couch with Richie. “Like, I don’t know, we haven’t played truth or dare since Freshman year,”

“First of all, truth or dare is a game for hormonal twelve-year-olds to play at parties, in hopes of getting kissed.” Beverly laughs, “And second, we haven't played since then because Richie dared Stan to do a handstand at the top of the stairs and he fell down them,”

“I broke my leg…” Stanley recalls. 

Richie hops up. “I remember that… Welp, I don’t know if we can top memories like Stan on anesthesia, but I wanna play, so truth or dare Beverly, you fire haired freak.”

“Oh my god we are actually doing this. Okay Tozier, Dare,” She laughs, sitting on the floor, head on Ben’s thigh, legs propped up and elevated against the couch. 

“I dare you to…” He taps his chin, and then, too suddenly, a look of pure Richie genius-- or evil as Eddie calls it-- comes over his face. “Anyone have paper and a marker?”

Stanley nods, digging through the travel bag he carries around with him. It is like his school backpack, but more colorful and less practical. His parents had brought it for him to use on vacations years ago. He pulls out a piece of red construction paper and a black Sharpie. 

“Perfect,” the Tozier boy says, looking too overcome with excitement for this to be good. Eddie doesn’t know whether to bite his nails or groan, so he settles on crawling to look over Richie’s shoulder-- and oh my god..

“So here is what you’ve gotta do.” Richie smirks.

Two minutes later, the curtain is pulled up and Beverly stands, looking out at the traffic as large trucks pass by. Her smile is sweet, and she is holding a sign against the window that reads 'honk if you’re horny!!'

The rest of the losers are sitting on the ground behind her, out of view from the window, watching and giggling because sometimes, sometimes Richie Tozier is a genius. 

One man in his forties, driving a red, rusty pickup truck pulls up beside them. It's clear that the adorable redhead had caught his eye. His smile at her is repulsive as he honks the horn. 

And that's haystack’s cue. Beverly ducks down, and up pops the chunky teen boy, shirtless and flaunting his pale tits for the repulsive man that had a hard-on for his girlfriend.   
It's a hilarious sight, and all the losers pop up (not including Beverly), shirtless and flipping off the man who looks shocked, speeding up to get the hell away from that RV as soon as possible. 

From the front of the car, they hear Bill Denbrough shout, “Why did a m-mah-man in a red pick-up juh-just flip me off?!!” and they all lose it, rolling on the ground laughing.

The game goes on, Stan admitting to cheating on a test in 10th grade. Mike downing an entire can of coke before Bill can yell supercalifragilisticexpialidocious from the front of the RV, Eddie telling the story about how he passed out during the birthing video in health class. 

“Okay Richie, you think it's so funny, truth or dare?” Eddie snaps, sticking out his tongue in frustration. 

“Okay, truth.” He answers nonchalantly, not thinking much of the questions Eddie could ask.

There is something Eddie wants-- no, needs to know. “Why were you late?”

And Richie breath hitches. Fuck.

“Because I was askin’ your mom the same thing, congrats on a new little brother.” Richie smirks, hoping if he could piss off Eddie enough, he would forget the question.

The short boy with a shorter temper’s eyes furrowed in confusion. “That doesn’t even make sense- you mean late on her p- oh my god Richie, that is disgusting!” Eddie sputtered out. 

“Actually, the miracle of life is quite beautiful, Eds. You wouldn't know because you passed out during it. We were thinking of naming her Abigail Tozier-Kaspbrak.” Richie smirks, but his cheeks are a little bit too red. He has definitely thought of that name before. 

Eddie wants to cut right through Richie’s bullshit, he knows when Richie is deflecting something. He acts like a sumo wrestler trying to dodge bullets. “Oh shut up, shit-for-brains--”

Richie had told quite a few bad jokes over the years. There was that time in the mall when he told Mike he was acting so white, he wouldn’t be surprised if Mike was secretly caucassion and had been doing blackface for years. Mike had laughed, but Stanley slapped him so hard upside the head, Richie saw stars. Or, there was that one time that Richie had been walking to the Barrens with Bill and Ben, when he saw a three legged alley cat, and without thinking, yelled, “look Bill, it’s Georgie!” before immediately slapping a hand over his own mouth. Bill had been quiet for the rest of the walk, but felt better when he pushed Richie off the cliff. And now, as his mouth moved dangerously faster than his brain in order to distract the group, Richie let these words tumble out:

“Besides, now she is knocked up, I gotta marry her, so sounds like I’m your new daddy, Eds-- I promise I won’t die.”

Eddie stopped bickering almost immediately. All the giggling and noises around him ceased. Oh fuck. 

“Shit.. Eds, I-”

Eddie’s wide and watery eyes snapped onto Richie’s gaze like one of those bracelets that wrap around your wrist when you hit it. 

With a venom that Richie had never received from the pipsqueak, Eddie spat, “Eddie-- Richie, my name is fucking Eddie! Don’t call me that. This game is over, I’m going to go get ready for bed.”

Eddie got up, ignoring how all eyes were on him as he grabbed that toiletry bag and locked himself in the bathroom. None of them commented on how it doesn’t take 45 minutes for someone to brush their teeth. 

-

Stan had prepared himself mentally to switch beds with Eddie for the night, but the request never came. At two in the morning, supposedly everyone was asleep. Bill was passed out in the reclining chair at the front, Ben and Bev in their bunks, Stan and Mike in one bed, and surprisingly, Richie and Eddie in the other. 

“You up, jackass?” Richie hears the quiet whisper, and flips around in their shared bed to face Eddie, having never been so thankful. “Yeah, I’m up.”

“Good. Fuck you.” Eddie says, and for a minute Richie feels like he might cry, when the smaller boy rests a hand on his waist. 

“Seriously, if you don’t learn to control your roadrunner of a mouth, someday you're getting your teeth knocked out.” And it's followed by the best laugh Richie has ever heard. Not because it's beautiful, although it is, but because it's a sign. It’s all okay the laugh says, Eddie doesn’t hate you.

“Yeah I know. Sorry. That was like, level A jackass of me. So, we’re good now?” Richie asks, leaning forward and melting into Eddie’s slight touch. 

“Not quite. You don’t have to tell all of them, but you gotta tell me. What the fuck happened today?”

It’s the question Richie has been avoiding all night, and Eddie has had enough. 

“Fine...fuck.”

'So this is where we dive in folks', Richie thinks, animating himself in his mind as if someone were actually listening. It's a habit that he has had for awhile. Honestly more of a tactic now that he uses to write comedy skits. 'Time to finally address the big fat fucking elephant in the room, before it shits on the carpets, because, you better believe that smell ain’t coming out. Huh, not coming out? Never thought I’d have anything in common with.. Well, that.'

Richie’s parents do not hit him. They ignore him, drink, leave him alone for weeks without grocery money, but they don’t touch their son. 

If they did, Richie could have gone to the police. 

He’d considered going for abandonment, but they are there most of the time, just not, you know… all there. When he was younger they were just fine. Granted, his mother never understood him, and his father didn’t actually listen when they talked, but they talked to him. They made an effort. Then, there was that one day… Richie’s dad came into his room, bearing a five dollar bill, ready to bribe Richie into mowing the lawn when he saw it. Richie, on his bed, holding a Captain America comic and clearly aroused-- just not over Peggy Carter. 

The way that Richie had jumped back, not because he was unclothed or anything, but because he was guilty. It didn’t take much more than a glance at the page, a full shot of Steve Rogers going from twink to hunk for Wentworth to put two and two together and realize-- his son was a fucking fairy. 

Things were never the same, and Richie knew it was his fault. 

“I got home and saw Wentworth.. With his hand around her throat. She was bloody and slipping in and out of consciousness. There were divorce papers on the counter. She wanted to split up. I thought he was going to…” 

Eddie’s eyes are wide, because holy fuck, how does one prepare for that shit. He doesn’t know how to comfort Richie. There are no tears to wipe away. Once again, he looks vacant. Eddie thinks he hates this more. 

“So I waited for him to leave, stole his keys, and drove her to my aunt’s friends house. My aunt should be picking her up and bringing her to Indiana soon.”

“Fuck.” is all Eddie can let out. It's funny, Richie notices, but only for a second, Eddie looks like the 13 year old clown fighter again in that garage. His eyes are wide, and brows furrowed in a mix of fear, confusion, and sorrow. 

Then, “I’m sorry.” 

And Richie smiles. “Say it again,” he asks.

Eddie caught off guard by this, mumbling out a confused, huh?

But it's cheering Richie up. “I said, say it again. You, Eddie, apologizing, this is rare.” 

And because Richie is smiling, and only for that, Eddie says, “No.. and.. Just for tonight, it's Eds.”

-

When daylight pours in, Ben behind the wheel now, nobody mentions how Richie and Eddie have completely made up. It's just the way they behave together. 

Eddie was the first up, it being essential to him to take the first shower. Stan was next in the bathroom, then Beverly, then Richie, and so on. Currently, they were parked a half hour out of the city, Bill showering. Once he was out, Ben would drive the rest of the way to the parking spot that they had somehow managed to reserve over the phone. The 24 hour spot is a 10 minute walk to time square, and only costs them $40.. 

“Alright Eds,” Richie smirks, Only half dressed in those khaki shorts. He didn’t wanna put a shirt on while his hair was still wet, claiming it would drench his back, “Fess up, was that an elbow or a knee performing open heart surgery on me last night? I swear you wanted to split my ribs!” 

“Dunno, wish it was a knife.” He quips back. 

Richie snickers, “Speaking of silverware” he stands up on the couch, the bed having been put away by now. “Heere yee, hear me! Dost the losers knoweth that Eddie Kaspbrak is a little spoon?”

The losers break out in laughter, Richie’s dumb voices having improved tremendously over the last few years. There are two versions of ‘the british guy’ now. One that sounds good, and one that sounds like shit that he does only to remember with his friends just how god awful he used to be.

“That’s it Tozier, your dead meat!” Eddie yells, tackling Richie like a lion going for the kill. The two fall onto the couch, wrestling and yanking at each other's hair. 

The other losers choose to ignore them, going about their mornings. Bev and Ben are in the other room for the soul purpose of Ben braiding Beverly’s hair (which is still short, but has grown out a bit over the past year), Mike is eating breakfast with Stan, and Bill is now dressed and sketching in the passenger's seat as he waits for Ben to come back and drive. 

Eddie has gained some muscle in high school, but not much. And though Richie is thinner, practically just bones and muscles, he is still weak. The two are pretty evenly set, and Eddie has Richie right where he wants him when--

“Woah, Eds, something in your pocket, or are you just glad to see me?” Richie teases, knowing he was helpless now, and needing to distract the boy.

Eddie turns pink, immediately looking down to check, “What no… I’m not--’”

“Relax kid,” Richie smirks, plan working perfectly as he feels Eddie giving up some of the pressure he has on Richie’s wrists. “I’m only messing with you, I’m the one with the one with a hard on right now,” 

Eddie is pink, shocked almost, he doesn’t wanna look really, no, that would be weird, but he does think if he can feel it on him, “h-huh?” He says, and suddenly, Richie has flipped him. His skin is burning bright. Not only angry, but flustered. It's not just the way that Richie says this ever so casually, but the way he looks at him, hidden deep in those dark eyes, when he says it. Then the aggression when he is completely flipped on his back effortlessly-- and, oh god, Eddie is a bottom-- the feeling of Richie pushing him by the damn shoulders deep into the couch. And then, the way Richie leans into his ear and whispers triumphantly. 

“That was a joke Eds. But I win.” The tickle of Richie’s breath on Eddie’s neck is enough to paralyze him. 

For a moment, Richie thinks that he has scared the shit out of the hypochondriac and then-- oh.

Richie pulls away a little bit, quieting his voice although nobody is paying attention to them anyways. “Wow Eddie, day one and you're already lusting over me? Thought I’d have to butter you up for the whole trip.” He is joking, clearly, but this isn’t his ‘Im Richie Tozier and I like to annoy the fuck out of everyone’ kind of joking, this is his ‘I’m Richie Tozier and comedy is my defense mechanism’ humor. But there, Eddie still sees it, although maybe he doesn’t completely recognize it yet, in Richie’s eyes it is more than a hint of want.

Eddie sits up, and he laughs nervously because his brain is all like 'oh shit oh shit oh shit, Richie just watched you get turned on, AND PRETTY CLEARLY it was due to him.' “Okay, ahah, Beep beep Richie. Sorry, friction is a bitch,”

It's clearly an excuse, and a shitty one at that because Richie knew as well as he did that there was hardly any ‘friction’ during that experience. But neither of them are planning on calling Eddie out for it, so the short boy awkwardly excuses himself to the bathroom to get away before another loser could ask questions. 

As Richie watches the little firecracker shuffle away with his head down, he can’t help that happy feeling in his chest. Little explosions of, what? Hope maybe? He’d ask Stan later what it meant when all you want to do is jump up and down and announce to the whole world that you just made your best friend pop a boner.

Okay, so he’d paraphrase it.

-

Walking around New York City was much more comfortable in a big group. Bill, being Bill, made everyone choose a buddy to keep their eyes on at all times so nobody was alone. Bev and Ben were stuck together, and Richie almost asked Eddie, but he figured that the boy should enjoy his day without having to be Richie’s babysitter, so he partners with Stan and Mike. Bill and Eddie up leading the pack. 

Honestly, Richie knows it will work out better this way. Bill is a natural born leader, and Eddie was basically the equivalent to a human compass. Besides, it's not like Richie takes offense to this.

He proves that this decision was good with pretty much all of Richie’s actions throughout the day. 

First of all, there was the moment when they first turned the corner into Time Square. Eddie’s face had gone into kid-on-christmas overdrive. His eyes wide as the billboards, mouth hanging open in shock, feet frozen, just taking in the view. If Richie had been his partner, they would have just stood there, Eddie looking at all commotion, and Richie looking at Eddie until they were trampled into the ground. But luckily, Bill had dragged him forwards, and Stan pulled Richie along too, rolling his eyes. 

Next, Eddie would have lost his shit when Richie played lets-see-how-many-strangers-we-can-high-five with Mike. Mike won by a grandma.

Then there was the in store incident, which wasn’t much of an incident at all. Essentially, they went into a china shop so Stan could buy a tea cup. Nothing happened because the group did a good job of keeping Eddie and Richie distracted, but if the two had been together, they would have definitely seen who could balance more fragile shit on their heads-- it was a recipe for disaster. 

They decided to see if the last minute box office retailers had any show tickets left, and yes they did. They had 2 to Phantom of the Opera and 5 for Miss Saigon. Although Richie wished he could go watch Phantom with Eddie, he knew that if he went they’d get kicked out for talking because Richie couldn’t shut up around the kid. Seriously, they went to the theater alone in Derry once to see Point Break in Sophomore year, and they were thrown out for heckling. It was fun though… 

Finally, there was Stan and Mike saving the dumbass from almost being kidnapped, but he’d rather not get into that one, so, lets just say Richie had learned his lessons about following strange men into alleyways for candy--yes, he was that oblivious.

So, after a whole day of exploring the Big Apple, finally Richie found an opportunity to let his hip become reattached to the hypochondriac’s. 

Eddie was now wearing a hat that said ‘I <3 NYC’ and sitting in the corner of the booth--having disinfected it first-- at the McDonalds they were eating at. 

For Spring Break, the city was pretty dead, but the losers would not have guessed that a 20 minute wait for fast food was abnormally fast if someone wrote it on a multiple choice test. 

Richie slid into the booth a soda in each hand. Eddie usually didn’t drink pop, claiming it made his tummy feel weird, but he never refused a ginger ale. Richie was far happier with his rootbeer.

“So, whatcha think of the city Eddie bea--” But before Richie could even finish his pick up line, Eddie interjected.

“Isn’t this place awesome, Rich? The lights, the movement. Everyone here is always just- go, go, go! For once I feel like I belong, you know? Like the crowded streets full of people ducking through traffic just to get to yoga on time! I love it! You can see their urges, their, their need for speed! It's like everyone here has a mind like me! And the language, hah, you blend in-- I watched a man call a pigeon a pussy for shitting on him and not his wife! It was crazy! But really, from the taxi cab drivers beeping their horns, to the viagra ads that are 70 feet tall, to the culture, the art built right into the soul of this city, Richie,” And he swears, there were tears in Eddie’s eyes, “I love it.”

'And I love you,' Eddie Kaspbrak. Richie thinks to himself. 'From your hopeless comebacks, to your doomingly engaging eyes, to your fanny pack that makes you look like an old lady, I love you. From the freckles that are sprinkles across your cheeks in the summer, and hazey reminders of the freedom we had then in the winter, to your puffy eyes when you need a good, ugly cry, I am fucking in love with a Kaspbrak, and its not Sonia. It's her son.'

“Damn.” 'I want to kiss you' “You know this place is like the disease capital of the world or some shit, right?”

And all Eddie does is laughs. Yeah. He does.


	3. Chicago

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every time he said, “As You Wish,” what he really meant was “I love you”
> 
> “This is already so fucking cheesy,”

The first of many long car rides occurs, and it's Eddie’s turn to sit behind the wheel. 

It’s honestly shocking that Eddie has a license at all. When he first brought up the idea of taking driver ed--hah--in 9th grade, his mother had shot it down so fast that Eddie had wondered if there was a time she could run at the speed her mouth just had. ‘Were people born fat?’ he asked himself. Probably not. The suggestion seemed unlikely, but with his mother it was hard picturing her normal.

When he became a junior and was the last of his friends to touch the pedal of a car, though, he snapped. It was one of the few times he used the experiences of his childhood and that summer against her. Loud and defiant he had declared that he was not the baby she treated him as. He wasn’t six anymore, he was a normal sixteen year old. He was even ballsy enough to tell her that he knew she was trying to keep him home, keep him away from the world, and he wouldn’t allow that!

Even if the first thing he did with his license was drive her to the nail salon… 

He had planned on spending the day alone with his thoughts, thankful that he was given Ohio to drive through. There were no big cities to worry about, just lots of cow crossings…

The morning had been like that. He woke up with one of Richie’s arms around his waist, which honestly, he couldn’t even be bothered by at this point. It was comfortable, safe and familiar. 

Most kids grow out of that stage. They reach a point where hormones make sharing a bed with your best friend an uncalled for bonding experience. But in all honesty, with Richie, he never stopped.

He remembers the first sleep over after Richie’s body got hit by puberty like a dump truck sending some poor, helpless creature flying. Richie automatically began to roll out his sleeping bag on the floor, to which Eddie responded with a curious gaze. He remembers Richie’s phrasing like it was yesterday. “oh, have I not mentioned to you yet that besides shooting up a fucking foot and growing hair in weird places, now my body is trying to fuck with me while I am unconscious too? You definitely do not want to end up like my pillow Eds, it wasn’t pretty.”

Eddie had inquired a bit after that, and, now knowing far too much about Richie’s dick--although it wasn’t like Richie hadn't talked endlessly about it before anyways-- Eddie insisted that Richie slept with him despite this. He told him that he thought he saw a mouse on Richie’s floor or some bullshit excuse, but honestly, he just wasn’t willing to let that go yet. He only regretted it a little later that night when he found out what Richie meant by, “apparently my mattress is a slut now”

When Eddie finally started getting his growth spurts, at long last, Richie hadn't even blinked twice when Eddie gave him the same haphazardous warning of, “your mattress may become a proper slut after this,”

Despite these… unconventional moments, the two still slept how they did when they were middle schoolers. Close, holding each other loosely, warm breaths drifting onto their skin at whatever bazaar angle they ended up in. Richie was a kicker, Eddie elbowed spontaneously, and both were cuddlers, so things got funky. Sometimes, Eddie would fall asleep with his head on Richie’s chest, knees tucked up into his own. Eddie liked this especially. The sound of Richie’s heart beat was like a steady lullaby. One of the good ones too, like hush little baby. Not the fucked up ones about treetops and falling. 

Anywhooo-- he woke up with that long arm stretched out to hold him, their legs slotted together warmly. He crawled out of bed, knowing the car had to be on the road by 7am. It was 6:30 when he got out of the shower, quietly brewing his own coffee in the small kitchen area, which he later poured into a mug at a ratio around 40% coffee, 25% milk, and 35% sugar. Once he had clean clothes on, a cup of joe in his hand(okay, ew-- who named their morning beverage joe anyways?), and a Little Debbies Cosmic Brownie in his tummy, Eddie was set to drive. 

He let his mind wander, thinking about the city. 

‘The bright lights were everything that I imagined them being’ he thought blissfully. ‘The streets were crowded and dirty and it was thrilling, absolutely thrilling.’ It was the type of thrill Eddie vaguely remembers from that ride at the carnival that made Stan puke his guts out. The type of thrill he felt when he would pedal as fast as he humanly could on that bike of his, and go soaring through the streets. The type of thrill he felt when he snuck out his window at night to go on an adventure with the losers. The type of thrill he felt when Richie called him Eds. 

And there it was. The bridge between two thoughts unlocking the gate and releasing the flood waters into Richie-town.

And just like that he was absorbed. Mind flickering through so many memories..

He first thought of the time that Richie caught the Flu while his parents were out on some vacation without him. Richie and him were only 14, and it was the first week after everything with It went down. When Richie didn’t show up at the quarry, everyone had been deadly silent. Later that night, Eddie discovered Richie, laying in a puddle of his own sick sweat. He drew the boy a bath, cleaned his whole fucking room, and made him something to eat that contained more than just empty calories. Richie got drunk off NyQuil and Vicks Vaporub, and told Eddie about his secret crush on Bart Simpson. 

Then, his mind wandered to that time that Richie had gone as Eddie for Halloween, all one big, elaborate prank where he stole a pair of Eddie’s running shorts and everything just to fuck with him. He even got contacts. Eddie had been so pissed, but he finally understood the jokes Richie made about his shorts. Even his boney ass looked good in them.

More memories flooded in. The Easter egg hunt Ben set up in the club house where Richie and Eddie bickered over who spotted every fucking egg first, despite later ending up in the hammock, both on crazy sugar highs from eating every piece in one sitting. The time Richie and he stole a bottle of alcohol from Richie’s parents' stash just to try it. Richie fucking hated it. Eddie thought scotch tastes like ass, but the wine coolers…. Well, there was a reason they ended up throwing up together in matching trash bins. The time they pulled an all nighter before the SATS to watch a fucking Star Wars marathon. The time Eddie passed out at the Zoo during their field trip and Richie waited in the infirmary until his mom got there. The time Richie taught Eddie to shave. The time Eddie felt sick on the bus and they didn’t have time to grab the trash can, so Richie dumped his shit out and let Eddie throw up in his backpack. 

“Where the dick are we?” Richie yawns, sinking into the passenger's seat as if he didn’t just give Eddie a fucking heart attack. 

“Dude! You can’t distract me right now,” He says, eyes wide like he is trying to keep them on the road. “I got my license like, four months ago, I don’t wanna crash because you thought it’d be a good time to play lougey.” 

“Don’t worry.” Richie’s voice is quiet, and it just then hits Eddie that it’s like 11 in the morning and Richie just rolled out of bed, still half asleep. “I’ll be quiet.”

Eddie’s eyebrow furrows, glancing at him for a mere second. “Why aren’t you wearing pants?” He asks. 

“Because I just got up and its hot as fuck right now,” Richie practically groans out. Eddie doesn’t mention it again because the other looks so tired. 

Eddie watched out of the corner of his eye as Richie tucked his knees up to his chest, turning on his side, looking like he was trying to get comfortable and.. Fall asleep? “You look like shit Richie, did you even sleep last night?” 

“Yeah.. sorta..” Truth be told, Eddie went to bed early because he had to drive in the morning, but Richie had stayed up till approximately two a.m. watching half the Star Wars collection. Richie should have been fine, he should have slept right through until now, but he didn’t.

Richie wasn’t prone to nightmares in the way Beverly was. He hadn’t had one in years actually. He knew that Eddie and Stanley occasionally got pretty bad ones too, but he hadn’t even considered the depth of how a dream can freak you out. That is, until he woke up in a cold sweat at six in the morning, desperately reaching out for the reassurance of his best friend, just to find himself in a bed alone. 

The worst part was the way it felt less like a dream, and more like some weird, fucked up vision that It had somehow implanted into his head. 

They were older, just like Bev had described years ago. Richie saw almost everyone. Bill, Mike, Beverly, himself, Eddie, another guy that looked like every Brazilian soccer player rolled up into one. Come to think of it, he didn’t actually see Stanley in his dream.

Anyways, it would have been a pretty cool dream, actually, if they weren’t holding a twenty-seven year reunion in the sewers below the house on Neibolt. Getting a clear look at that fucking clown again wasn’t even the worst part. Falling asleep next to Eddie, then promptly waking up only a few hours later from the clear as day image of Eddie bleeding to death, just to find his favorite hypochondriac no where in sight was the worst fucking part. That wasn’t exactly a dream that you could just brush off and fall back asleep after. 

So, Richie got comfortable and closed his eyes, not exactly falling asleep, but resting more soundly with his head against the seatbelt and a Kaspbrak only two feet away. 

Maybe Eddie would get to indulge in thoughts of the raven haired boy after all…

-

They didn’t get to Chicago until that night, which was fine since the plan was to start their exploration of the city the next morning, do an architecture tour around noon, and begin the long ride to California that night. 

Despite this, there was an agenda for the night: Mandatory Losers Club Movie Night, no sneaking away to draw birds allowed--that one’s looking at Stan. 

Beverly had prepared for this moment, bringing about a billion pillows. She had been outraged to find out that only three out of seven of the losers had seen The Princess Bride--Stan, Ben, and herself obviously, the three losers with taste. She came fully equipped, bearing popcorn, tissues, and the works. 

The couch beds were unfolded and pushed together with the losers set up as follows: Stan and Bill had their backs to the pillows, sharing one bowl of popcorn between them, eyes glued to the screen, Mike was laying in the middle of the two beds on his stomach, Richie and Eddie in the bed they were sharing anyways, Ben and Bev on the floor that was covered in more pillows for comfort. 

Every time he said, “As You Wish,” what he really meant was “I love you”

“This is already so fucking cheesy,” Richie complained, sounding almost like the little boy that continuously interrupts his grandfather throughout the story.

“Keep your trap shut, trashmouth, this is a classic.” Stan said, rolling his eyes and throwing a piece of popcorn at Richie’s head as Bill watched with cute wide eyes. 

“A classic my ass, it came out six years ago,” Richie mumbled under his breath, turning his attention to Eddie. He leaned over, stealing some popcorn from what was supposed to be their bowl (although Eddie was guarding it and eating way more than his share)

Eddie had noticed that Richie was being a little weird today. Not unlike himself, but something was definitely different. Richie hadn’t just spent a little while in there trying to sleep whilst the others were up and being loud in the back. No, Richie had stayed glued to Eddie’s side all day. Honestly, Eddie expected Richie to get bored after a while when he made it clear that if Richie planned on staying with him while he drove he’d have to be silent. Richie had instead agreed and spent the whole time reading a book.

It was still an odd sight for Eddie. He knew Richie was a hell of a lot smarter than he let on to be, but as Richie sat quiet for hours, completely absorbed in 1984 by George Orwell, Eddie began to get a sense of how much of a nerd Richie really was.

It just was odd. The way Richie looked almost nervous when Eddie parked the RV to go use the bathroom, or how when he asked him to go grab some snacks, Richie seemed to stall for forever before leaving. 

“Don’t choke,” Eddie laughed when Richie shoved the entire handful into his mouth at once. 

Richie grinned through the mouthful, “that's what he said”

Eddie snorted, looking back up at the movie, “Weirdo” he mumbled, putting the bowl aside and leaning against Richie, who gladly lifted his arm up so Eddie could curl against him… ya know, like couples do..

“Did you shower today?” Eddie mumbled, eyes on the movie still. 

Richie shook his head.. Oh right, “No.” 

“Figures, your pits reek.” There was no sting behind it. It was more of just stating a fact. A fact that, although Eddie hated to admit it, he didn’t really mind. Sure he was a bit grossed out by the number of germs that one person collects in a day without showering, but the actual light stench of BO… Curse Eddie’s teenage mind that could only connect it to other reasons Richie would be sweaty and holding Eddie this close. 

“You know what else reeks? Your mom’s pus--” 

“Both of your dead carcasses will reek if you two don’t shut up and watch the movie.” Beverly says, tone sharp and threatening. Okay, point taken, don’t fuck with Beverly Marsh when the Princess Bride is on.

-

The movie goes on for another hour, and Eddie actually finds it quite good-- like really fucking good if he is being honest. When the scene with the wine glasses came on, he and Richie had a hard core debate over which cup the poison was in: they both groaned and complained when it was revealed that there was poison in both chalices (although, Eddie had to admit that was genius). Richie would occasionally whisper to him some comedic commentary, such as: “They revive him for true love? I would have told the miracle worker I need to stick around to see the day you finally hit puberty” or “My name is Richie Trashmouth Tozier, you stole my popcorn, prepare to die-- abeties, diabetes, seriously Eds, that's a lot of butter--”

When the movie finally ended, Eddie was no longer tucked into Richie’s shoulder, but instead laying on his back head to the side as he watched the movie with Richie’s arm tossed over his stomach, head on Eddie’s chest. He hadn’t noticed Richie taking off his glasses until he looked down to ask if he liked it and realized that Richie was asleep. 

“Okay, but why is Wesley so hot--” Beverly said loudly to the group, which made Eddie’s head snap towards her as the chorus of responses flooded in.

“Shh! Guys, can you be quiet-- Richie is asleep,” Eddie quickly shushed them, in slight alarm. Usually he wouldn't have said anything, but Richie looked like he really needed to get some rest. Plus, if he woke up now, Eddie would be playing 20 questions with him until two in the morning. 

Ben turned around, in the midst of standing up. He seemed to be confused for a moment-- in Ben’s defense, Eddie was never this considerate of people’s sleep schedules.. “Oh, are you guys like,” He started to ask, eyes softening with a smile before being cut off by a sharp elbow from Beverly that definitely answered his question.

Eddie cocked his eyebrow in confusion. “Are we, are we what?” he asked, seeing Ben flush red and start walking away towards the small room. 

“Don’t sweat it Eds, g’night boys.” Beverly smiled and followed Ben into the other room.

‘Are you together?' was the question Ben almost asked. Sure, it seemed like one hell of a conclusion to jump to, but he had a bit of information that led him down that bunny hole. When Richie had finally come to terms with his sexuality and crush on Eddie, he went to the only loser that he didn’t need to worry about asking stupid questions like: “have you ever liked me?” This loser of course was Beverly. She was the first to know his secret, and his crush. 

The interaction went a little something like this… “I like boys,” “Really? Me too, finally someone to rant with. I have dibs on Ben, though” “Shucks, really? Haystacks off the table? Whatever shall I do?!” “Yeah, yeah-- so who do you have your eye on?” “Not telling, Beaverly.” “What if I guess?” “Fine, you get one try, but thats i-” “Eddie?” “...I fucking knew red heads could read minds,”

And after that, of course, Beverly had let it slip to Ben. Well, not her proudest moment, but at least she had kept it from Eddie, right?

Once those two hurried off to bed, which was like, really fucking weird, Eddie sighed, watching Mike take his pillow and blanket up to the the front, Bill already half asleep himself, and Stan laying beside the stuttering boy with a small smirk. He knew something Eddie didn’t, that sly son of a rabbi. “Stan, what did he sa--”

“Are you two dating yet.” Stan answered. The fact that Bill only rolled over was proof that he was either already asleep, or frankly, didn’t care. Stan knew about Richie’s crush too. Richie hadn’t told him, he just wasn’t as oblivious as the rest of the losers. He had known since he walked by the bridge one day and noticed a new R+E carved in. It took about fifteen seconds for him to put it all together. It was a simple addition. Richie 1) owned a pocket knife 2) had ranted to him pissed off that some random girl gave Eddie a valentine 3) said his ideal woman was a mix between Sonia Kaspbrak and Leanne Creel

Eddie’s face went bright red. Oh- how the fuck does one respond to that. Well, he should probably deny it because, of course it wasn’t true. Why had Stanley and Ben even thought of that? He and Richie were like this all the time! They were just close. Maybe Stan was fucking with him. “I- uh, no, whatever, go give Bill another hickey.”

“Nah, he's sleeping,” Stan responded, deadpanned. 

‘Good’, Eddie thought. ‘One less witness-’ “and you should be too,” With that. The smaller boy turned out the lights, waiting until he no longer felt Stan’s amused gaze on him to cuddle up into Richie’s side once more. 

-

To five out of the seven losers, the Architecture tour through Chicago was actually less lame than it sounded. They got to take a boat tour, so they weren’t just walking around and looking at buildings. Beverly had been humoring Ben, letting him finish the facts before the announcer had a chance to. The boy knew his shit about the Rookery building. 

Richie decided to sit out at the side of the boat, watching the water stir. He had tuned out the boring sound of the pre-recorded tour only minutes after it began with the casual thought of, ‘even my British guy impression couldn’t make Marina City interesting’ 

It was one of the first times thus far into the trip that he had to think about what was coming up; his audition. 

He had written all his best jokes down in a journal that was back in the RV, and honestly, not having someone to share them with was killing him. Maybe if he just told one of the others…

Mike was probably the most supportive, so that was a no go-- he needed real feedback, critical, but not Stanley critical. Stan would say they all sucked, and complain about the profanity. Bill would probably correct his grammar, which was the farthest thing from what he needed. Beverly would make him tell the others for sure because she was ‘proud of him’ and Ben would turn bright red at his crude humor. 

But, California was the next destination. Tomorrow was a day straight of driving, and by 3pm of the following day, Richie would be sitting in a waiting room, about to shit his pants while he waited to go into his first real comedy club audition. 

“If I hear one more comment about something being notable for its Whatever Style, incorporating elements of who-gives-a-fuck’s earlier work and the ideas they brought back from somewhere-over-the-goddamn rainbow, I’m jumping over the side,”

God bless Eddie Kaspbrak and his raging ADHD. 

“Come to keep me company then?" Richie asked. 

“No, I came so you would keep me entertained.” Eddie replied, looking like he was dying of boredom. 

“Yeah, well. That's what she said,” Richie mumbled half-heartedly as he sat back in the seat, actually looking at Eddie. Wait… Maybe this was a sign. Maybe this was just what he needed. 

And before he could debate with himself over it, Richie felt the words leaving his mouth. “I booked an audition in LA for Wednesday. Don’t tell the others.”

“Excuse me you what?” Eddie repeated, eyes bulging wide. Richie didn’t realize it, but Eddie was smiling. 

“Dave Chappelle, comedy tour around the US. He needs an opening act, so I figured I'd try my luck and-”

“Richie that’s incredible! Why the hell haven’t you told the others?” Eddie asked, having the urge to hit the boy upside the head for not telling him sooner. Instead, apparently his instinct was to smile at him, sickeningly happy. 

“Because it's not like I actually think I have a chance at getting the gig-- I just want to experience an audition so I know what to choo- what it's like,” Richie said, figuring he wouldn’t get into the whole ‘this is going to make or break my dreams and determine my future college choice’ thing. 

“So what, it's still exciting! Look, tomorrow we are spending all day in the car. If you really don’t wanna tell the others, then so be it, but I’m helping you practice your material so you don’t make a complete ass of yourself.” 

Richie was embarrassed to admit that his cheeks flushed red at that. It was exactly what he needed, and he didn’t have to ask-- in fact, it sounded more like he couldn’t refuse if he had wanted to. “Okay, but warning, some of my jokes are about you,” the raven haired boy teased.

“I'm rejecting anything that involves my mother.” Eddie stated flat out as the boat returned to the harbor and the other losers came to join them near the exit. 

“Damn, out the window with my whole repertoire. I better start writing new material then,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ty for reading! leave a comment if ya feel like it, i love feedback
> 
> -chip <3


	4. The Sandlot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If babies are made from sex and not birds, where do eggs come from?” Richie returned to a newscaster voice for the intermissions. “Brought to you by the Stoners, where the only girl that’s graced their lips is Mary Jane."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHH  
> Omg im sorry it took me so long to update, but here you are!!!   
> I felt guilty, so the ending gets good ;)   
> I hope you guys are still interested in this loll

“As an eighteen year old, I’ve come to realize that there are certain things that all adults will tell you when prompted correctly. For example, if you want advice such as, ‘never stick your dick in one’ all you gotta ask is what not to do with a Chinese finger trap. Although, that one might just be all adults on my dad’s side of the family. Anyways, one of these universal answers brought to you by adulthood would be: You’ll like college more. High school sucks for anyone other than the athletes and cheerleaders. And, maybe this is true. But, it makes me think that when you grow up- and I mean really grow up and get a job, and maybe knock up a girl and start losing hair and that shit- you forget the good shit about high school. 

**Example A:** The fuckin bus rides. Twenty minutes of pure and glorious hell. When else is it acceptable to write swears in foggy windows for passing cars to read, fall asleep on a strangers shoulder at 7:30am, or get a semi public handjob. I’m serious- I watched it happen, and even the bus driver had mad respect for that Freshman. 

**Example B:** Substitute teachers. Flash back in time here with me: it’s a Wednesday afternoon, and you sit down in biology to look up and find that Mrs. Carmon is suddenly 60 lbs lighter and hasn’t shaved in what must be weeks. Also- have you ever thought about how every movie ever shown by a sub in any sort of science class has the same shitty actor that looks like if Chuck Norris was abducted by Michael Jackson’s plastic surgeon? Anyways, every time I get a substitute, I tell them I go by Dick- since my name is of course Richard- and then I see how many times I can get them to say Dick in a class period. Now, if you are thinking that that alone sounds immature, you are right- but this is the best part- my friend Beverly tells them that it's pronounced Beaverly, and by the end of the class, both Dick and Beaver are in the principal's office being punished.

**Example C:** Cafeteria lunches-- hear me out, the food is shit, but you have never lived until you’ve zoned out and eavesdropped on each of the clicks. The following are real quotes that were spoken inside a high school during lunch hour.”

Richie paused for only a moment to clear his throat and slip into his stoner voice. 

“If babies are made from sex and not birds, where do eggs come from?” He returned to a newscaster voice for the intermissions. “Brought to you by the Stoners, where the only girl that’s graced their lips is Mary Jane. Now, we bring you to the popular table, where we have an eye witness reporting of the quarterback making the following statement about finals:” His eyes were all glowy and excited as the voices came to him smoothly, “I don’t know if I passed Algebra, dude, I needed like, a 12% or higher on that test, and I just answered C for everything. Like, it was multiple choice. ¼, that gives me like a fifty percent chance of passing, right?” He barely had to take a breath before switching back. “And to conclude tonight’s broadcast, the hicks.”

“What's the difference between my second cousin and a fairy? One gives way better head.” 

“Is that a fucking Hillbilly Hare impression, Tozier?” Eddie interrupted at long last, sitting up on the small bed. Beverly and Ben had allowed them to steal the private room to get away for a little while. 

“Was it any good?” Richie asked, his smile falling lopsided. 

Eddie shook his head. “Absolutely not. Keep it in though, even shitty impressions give you a leg up,” Eddie smiled. 

Richie’s face seemed to light up at that. “Well, there we go then. What's your feedback for me- other than that- anything I should change?” 

Eddie bit his lip, squinting a little in thought. “Well, your delivery was pretty good- except..” 

“Except?” Richie gestured for Eddie to continue. 

He shook his head. “Well, maybe I only noticed because I’ve known you for my whole life, so it's probably not an issue, but the whole label of being young. I mean, I like it, don’t get me wrong. Considering you are barely 18, it was a good move to acknowledge your age instead of acting like every other comedian in their thirties. But you seem a little- i dunno, immature. Like, you talk about sex and shit, but I know you well enough to say you’ve never had a handjob--”

“Woah, woah, woah, what does my sex life have to do with my comedic skills? And how do you know? Your mother and I may be private about our--”

“Literally everything about you screams virgin, Richie.” Eddie deadpanned, rolling his eyes at the boy’s desperate and jittery attempt to deflect. “And like I said, it's not a big deal, you’re jokes are solid-”

“I look like a virgin? Bill and I are still betting on when you’re balls are going to drop, Eds,” Richie teased, flipping mindlessly through the journal of jokes that he scribbled down nightly before bed as he reflected on the day’s humor. 

Eddie’s face twisted in an offended gasp that was, quite frankly, ridiculous. “Beep fucking beep, I’m not prepubescent-”

“You look like the bible’s wet dream-” This one made Eddie snort.

The pill popping boy shook his head as he laughed. “Um, one- incorrect, two- fuck off,”

“Incorrect, aye? Does Eddie Spaghetti get his rocks off?” 

Eddie’s smile turned into a panicky embarrassed look. “Ew Richie, no- I mean, well, yeah, duh, but- but drop it, will ya?” He got out, face red and flushed. “Virgin or not, I’m just saying right now you’re biggest issue is coming off as immature. But that’s less in your humor and more in your composure, you know?”

“No Eddie, I most certainly do not,” Richie replied, his expression was both cocky and frustrated. “If I was aware, I think I’d fix it.”

How many times could Eddie roll his eyes in one conversation? The world would never know. “Okay well, you don’t want to seem nervous, you gotta come off as confident- it plays into the whole ‘I’m an 18 year old punk with a smart mouth’ thing that /somehow/ is working.”

“Well, I’m not really nervous,” Richie said, shrugging defensively. So maybe that was a lie, back off mind readers.

Eddie laughed. “Rich, you’re not even in front of a real audience, and you’re stiff as stones,”

“God, and all this coming from a kid who got ‘asthma’ from having too tense posture,” Richie groaned, hiding his smile. Eddie still used his inhaler from time to time despite knowing it was bullshit. The other losers had told him that if it helped, it did not matter whether or not it was real-- the asthma attacks felt real enough to Eddie anyways. 

“Okay, can it, dickwad. Let's look through some of your other jokes. What else is there?” He asked. Moving to look over the top of Richie’s journal.

There were four sections in Richie’s notebook, separated by little tabs. The first was any jokes involving stories about the losers. These were where he wrote all of the best stories that happened to them down, like the time that Stan fell in the lake when they went camping, and didn’t have any other pajamas, so he had to borrow Beverly’s nightgown. The next section was full of routine comedy. This was where he wrote down sketch comedy and monologues. After that came the random thoughts section. In this part he wrote down any little funny comments or jokes he had thought of throughout the day. The last section was the most private. It was where he wrote all of his Eddie-related humor--which, yes, he needed an entire section for-- some were just little jokes about how if he had to sacrifice one of their friends, it’d be Eddie because he was little and could fit on a barbecue. Others were full of pathetic rants about being in love with an asshole. 

“Aye, aye, aye, not to close Kaspbrak, this is top secret, can't even look it up, shit.” Richie said, pulling the notes up to his chest defensively. 

From the glance Eddie caught, he looked somewhat amused. “Wow, I’m still convinced you haven’t cleaned your room in the 12 years of our friendship, but that was surprisingly organized, Tozier.”

“What can I say, I take my craft seriously,” He grinned, flipping through the journal. “So I got mom jokes-”

“No.”

“Dick jokes,”

“Already exceeded your limit,”

“I could tell them all about your Captain America obsession-”

“Veto! Major veto!”

Richie laughed a little. Sometimes Eddie Kaspbrak was just too cute. With his secret comic book collection that easily doubled the rest of the losers combined, and the more secret sketches of his own comics that he had Richie sworn to secrecy over. “Okay, Wonder boy,” He teased, earning an embarrassed and annoyed glare. “What if I tell them about us? Like if I did my routine on the losers and growing up in Derry?”

“I hope to fuck that you’re planning on leaving out the whole killer clown thing, because the only opening act that will get you is one for the mental ward.” Eddie said, but sat up more intrigued. “What would you tell them?”

He flipped back to the first section of the book, reading the headers of all the pages, “Here. How’s this..”

“If you, for whatever reason, want to try and understand me, then you should take this advice: if you want to really know a person, try getting to know the people they surround themselves with. Pretty good huh? You can only find that kind of oddly vague and specific advice in a fortune cookie.”

“So, mis amigos- and amiga. We’re essentially the perfect cast of a coming of age movie produced by Warner Brothers. We’ve got the token fat kid, token black kid, the athsmatic little weasel, the girl, the pack leader with a stutter and emotional baggage, a jew, and the kid who never shuts up- which, if you haven’t put it together yet, once again, my name is Richie Trashmouth Tozier.”

“Okay so, here’s a few stories to keep you all on your feet. Que the ‘best of’ clips-- this is the losers club.”

Eddie paused him for a moment. “This sounds good, Rich- but do you seriously have to call me a weasel?”

“That’s my favorite part, Eddie Spaghetti,” Richie beamed, reaching forward and ruffling Eddie’s hair. “Now, to get into the good bit,” He flipped the page.

“My buddy Ben is built like a teddy bear. He acts like one too. He’s really smart as well, and wants to be an architect. So last summer, I swung by his house to say hello, and I caught him working out in his mother’s sports bra. I told him he should have stolen his girlfriend’s but he said it didn’t fit.”

Eddie interrupted here, “Oh my god- are you serious, he’s going to kill you-”

“I’d be afraid that he’d eat me alive, Eds, but we both know Ben couldn’t hurt a fly-- unless you fuck with Beverly, then he goes all hulk-”

“Okay, fair enough- and this is good stuff, go on.” The smaller boy looked genuinely entertained now. 

“Mike is the only black kid I have ever seen grow up in Derry, Maine. So, needless to say, he’s been through some shit. But, that never stopped him from being brave, strong, and respectful. I’ve seen adults practically spit in his face at restaurants and he tipped them when he left. Kid is a saint. Best Mikey moment had to be when he actually did get mad once-- it wasn’t even about anything serious. I swear, this kid is faced with racist bullshit every day and keeps completely calm, but I tried to tell him once that Bruce Springsteen was just okay, and he didn’t speak to me for a whole week. To be fair, I was definitely wrong, but…”

“Then there is Eddie- the only asthmatic I have ever met that ran the one mile dash in six minutes.” Richie’s eyes scanned over the bit that he had written about Eddie, editing it as he went. “He carries around like, a shit ton of pills. Sometimes I think they all must just be for his ADHD, because holy fuck that kid can’t sit still. He’s also the most adorable-” Richie paused, reading over the next line in his head to make sure he wasn’t about to say something stupid. 

Eddie was not unfamiliar with Richie’s flirtatious flattery. It was, after all, an aspect of his personality. He wouldn’t admit it, but he loved being called little nicknames- Cutie, Eddie Spaghetti, even fucking Eds, “Keep going, I’m intrigued.” 

Richie looked up a little more nervous as he continued. “The most adorable person I have ever met, like, he has these big dark eyes, and he’s like- tiny.” He may have skipped over a bit longer of a ramble. “Best Eddie Spaghetti moment was when he made it until freshman year not knowing where babies come from.”

“Richie- you can NOT use this stor-”

“And in Wellness, we had to write an essay on it to show our understanding of the topic before watching the birthing video. He pulled me aside in lunch before class, and told me he’d give me my pick of any two of his comics if I wrote his essay. He was having an asthma attack, pacing back and forth. He gave me the paper that he tried to write. It was truly an adorable attempt. Of course he went with the stork method, and Santa made an appearance, and there wasn’t the word vagina once.”

Eddie’s face was hot red, eyes squinted shut and brows furrowed together. “Oh my god, fuck off, Richard,” Eddie groaned, shoving him. 

Richie laughed a bit. “Okay, fine, but I’m using that.” 

“In the audition- fine- ever speak of it again I will rip your tongue right out of your mouth.”

“Thats hot-” 

“Shut up Richie- wait- don’t shut up, keep talking, what else is in that joke book of yours?” Eddie asked, 

“A fuckin lot-” Richie sighed. “Can we take a break though? I’m hungry.”

Eddie snickered. “Yeah? When aren’t you. You eat like- all the fuckin time how are you so skinny?”

“Beats me, Eds.” Richie grinned, getting up and opening the door. “Alright who is driving this thing?” He asked, peaking around at the losers. Bev, Mike, Bill, Ben..

“Stan’s be-behind the wheel, Rich.” Bill said, looking up from his sketchbook. “We-we’re in Utah.”

“Utah, eh?” Richie smiled, walking over to Bill, reaching out for the map that was beside him. “Lemme take a look-” He said, picking up the map and holding it open. “What are you drawing there anyways, Big Bill.”

After a moment of hesitation on Bill’s end, Richie peaked up at him more pressing- curious. “I-It’s nothing, ju-just a pr-pro-project I wanted to work on with the lo-long ride and all-” Bill explained, flipping his sketchbook so Richie could get a look. He wasn’t expecting to see a picture of Ben’s face. 

Richie’s eyes lit up. “You gotta tell me more, big guy,” He grinned, reaching out to tip the sketch towards himself. It was Ben, sitting in the boat in Chicago, a close up of his face, with a beautiful arch in the background of some random architecture building shit. It was all drawn in a deep, crimson red, everything perfectly sketched out like in a comic book or something, but real, not animated. He had managed to nail the fascinated, alive look in Ben’s eyes. It was really good. 

“I wanted to dra-draw all of us, looking happy in our states- just for memories an-and stuff.. I’m gunna do them all in different colors so I can pu-put them together in the end like a display.. It-it’s just an idea though-”

“Bill, these looks awesome. You’re really getting good with this art shit, man.” He grinned, giving back the sketch and looking at the map before a thought dawned on him. “Wait, did you draw Eddie yet?”

“H-he was first. It turned out good.” Bill smiled proudly.

“Can I see?”

Bill flipped the page back one to a light yellow drawing of Eddie Kaspbrak. In this picture, you couldn’t tell it was New York if you tried. Eddie was in the McDonald’s, looking across the table, smiling wide eyed at someone, mouth open, midway through a ramble, a medium fountain drink-- root beer, Richie knew-- in one hand, and the other in the air, the other moving the way it did when he talked. 

“Why did you draw him here?” Richie asked, looking up at Bill. Bill had been by Eddie’s side all day. They must have walked by 20 historical monuments, polaroids outside of Broadway. Why would Bill draw him in McDonalds then he could have been on the subway or on the street, leaning on the sign. 

“Because it's n-not about the scenery, it's about the p-people.” Bill smiled. “Look at his eyes, Rich. He’s happy, he’s talking-” the attention Bill paid to draw Eddie with hands up mid sentence really did capture his behavior in the same way Ben’s soft, quiet smile did. “He looks like the heart of New York. The spirit of the city is supposed to be conveyed through him- loud, busy, awake despite the darkness in the windows. I didn’t have to dr-draw West Broadway to know why he’s happy.”

“Why is he so happy..” Richie asked quietly, not even meaning to say it out loud. He was in a dirty McDonalds, not the theater- why did he look so alive then. 

“I-I’d imagine it had something to do with that be-being the first time he talked to you all day.” Bill smiled, taking back the sketchbook. Richie felt his cheeks flush- oh- yeah, he was telling Riche about his day.. That's what they did in McDonalds. 

“Huh.. So what color are you going to draw me in, Billy?” Richie asked, changing the topic as he looked back at the map. 

“Purple,” Bill said, not hesitating in the slightest. “It suits you,”

“How about that-” Richie smiled. 

“I don’t know wha-what color I’ll do for myself.” Bill said, flipping back a few pages. “Eddie’s happy, clean, bright- he’s yellow, you’re a bit darker, more mysterious, but softer than you pretend to be,” Bill said, just calling him out. 

Richie snorted. “You know you don’t always stutter-”

“Ben’s red, but deep, like when you embarrass him and he blushes real deep,” Bill giggled. “Red like love,” He said, “Be-Beverly’s like fire, bright orange. Like her hair. Mike is deep blue, dark, strong, brave. Stan i-is green, a soft green, I- I don’t know what-”

“Light blue.” Richie said, picking up a marker and circling something on the map. “For sure. I can’t explain it, but,” Richie smiled, patting Bill on the shoulder. Now, if you would excuse me, I need to go argue with a Jew, wish me luck.”

-

“No, no way Rich.” Stan said, shaking his head. “I am not stopping at a cinema right now, I’ll be too tired to drive after the movie..”

“Not if it's a scary movie.” Richie said, showing him the map in Stan’s little responsible glances from the road. “Come on, we’re all dying, its hot as fuck back here, we just ran out of cheese doodless thanks to Mike-” He said, shooting Mike a glare that the latter laughed off, licking his cheesy fingers. “We could get popcorn and some sodas, and sit in comfortable seats for a while--”

“Comfortable seats?” Stan asked, that catching his attention. 

“Yeah man! We’re in the city, some of these theaters have chairs that fucking massage you.” Richie said, going pretty hard on the sale. “And, I called ahead, they have one monster movie playing at the same time as one of those chick flicks--”

Stan put on the blinker. 

-

When they got to the movies the group split pretty evenly. Ben, Stan, and Bill- who had been dragged into it by Stan, despite Ben being unable to persuade Beverly- went to some chick flick about a girl who wears pink or whatever and has a friend named after an animal- okay, so Richie wasn’t really listening.. 

The rest of them decided on a movie called silver bullet. The movie came out in 85, but apparently this theater was just showing some reruns anyways at this time. What Richie didn’t put together until it was a little late was that Silver Bullets was quite clearly about Werewolves. AKA the one thing that freaked Richie the fuck out. He was seated next to Eddie in the top part of the theater. It sure as hell wasn’t the Aladdin. 

Richie and Eddie were both sitting back in their seats, as far away from the screen as possible, with their feet up on the railing where their popcorn sat. For the first half Richie had been pretty good about not showing how freaked he was. This whole thing was giving him flashbacks to a movie he’d seen the summer of ‘89. The same movie that fucking clown had terrorized him about. For the record, Eddie seemed to make the connection quickly enough when his joke about Richie looking like he had seen a ghost bombed- that was when he made the connection- not a ghost, a clown. 

Eddie had done his best to subtly make Richie less afraid, putting the popcorn in front of them so he could sit just a bit closer to Richie, whispering the occasional joke about how the special effects suck dick like Richie’s mom. It was appreciated until Eddie looked scared too. 

The theater was almost empty. The only others in there were a group of younger kids seated below them under the railing, talking through the movie obnoxiously loud. Talking about how if they had aim like The Jet- whoever that was, those silver bullets would go to better use. 

Things went pretty good until an unexpected jump scare that resulted in Eddie kicking their popcorn over the rail, immediately sitting up with a “shit!” looking over the side. “I just kicked popcorn on a group of eighth graders!” 

“Squints! Did you see him!” A small squeaky voice asked from down below them. 

“No, I didn’t have my glasses on Smalls- I think I have butter in my eyes- whoever is up there better be buying me contacts!” Another high pitched voice reeled. 

Richie snorted, getting up and looking over the rail. “You kidding me- your mothers ever teach you to shut your mouths in a movie!” He called down, seeing an eighth grader that he could only assume was the jet- shit okay, that kid looked like he could kick his lanky high school ass. 

Eddie caught on to Richie’s idea before Richie even processed he was picking up his soda. 

“Richie- don’t you dare-” But, acting on impulse, it was too late, Richie was pouring a full cup of soda over the group of teens. 

“You have no fucking impulse control-” Eddie said, glaring at him as be grabbed Richie- who had been seen- by the wrist and pulled him out of the theater, mumbling the whole way about how “We’re going to get beat up by a bunch of middle schoolers in baseball jerseys that probably have fuckin bats stashed in their bags-”

“Fuck which theater did they go into? 4 or 5?”

“I think they said five?” Richie answered unsure as they ducked into the theater quietly, looking for their friends-- It took about ten seconds for them to realize it was the wrong theater. 

“Um, she definitely isn’t wearing pink-- well,”

On screen was a very explicit clip from The Doors Movie. If you don’t know the doors movie- well, lets just say it isn’t Pretty in Pink.

“Ohmygoddidshejustdrinkhisblood--” Eddie exclaimed, horrified, looking up at the screen in shock, frozen with a look of disgust, Richie next to him, looking at boobs like a mouse looks at an owl- fuckin terrified. 

“This is so much scarier than that fuckin werewolf-” He mumbled to Eddie, and okay, now their in bed--

“I don’t like it-” Eddie said, still frozen in the aisle.

“There! I see em, Squints, Ham, Yeah-Yeah!” 

That snapped the boys out of it, dashing out of the theater around the corner of the block, hiding behind a dumpster, holding in their laughter at the ridiculousness of the situation, waiting to hear the footsteps of that gang of baseball loving misfits to go off down the block.

“Oh my god, we’re fucking idiots,” Eddie said, triggering his aspirator, sucking in a deep breath, but laughing through it. “Come on, it's chilly, let's get in the RV. The movie won’t be out for like another half hour.”

-

“That werewolf movie was bad, but holy shit-- we’ve been through some shit dude, and I don’t think I have ever been more frozen in fear than that doors movie-” Eddie said, legs pulled up to his chest on the couch opposite to the one that they usually sleep on. Richie was busy pulling theirs out into a bed.

Richie snorted. “I know right- wait, why were /you/ so freaked out by it?” He asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed, kicking off his shoes and changing into pajamas, which Eddie saw, and began mimicking- because hell, if Richie was going to be wearing comfortable pajamas, he would too. 

“What do you mean why? They drank each others blood and she was naked and--”

Richie couldn’t help but snort. “You were scared by a boob?” He asked mockingly.

Eddie’s face flushed a bright red. “What? N-no- well, not, not because- okay, yeah, maybe.” He admitted, watching Richie burst into another fit of laughter. “Okay smart ass, why were you so scared?”

“Because they started fucking, duh.” Richie said, shrugging, still laughing at how flustered Eddie was. 

“What, and that's scary to you?”

“Huh- oh-” Well, Richie’s laughter died out quickly. “No not scary, just uncomfortable to watch, I guess..”

Eddie smirked a little, sitting on the bed, a little extra happy because he knew he had the upper hand- he wasn’t sure how yet, but he was definitely going to call Richie on his bluff. “Oh really? Isn’t that like 90% of your casual conversation topics- I’m not buying this, Rich.”

_Okay- well, fuck-_ Richie thought. _I guess this is happening now.._

“Well, yeah, but I’m, I’m not really into that stuff..” He said, a bit too quietly, not meeting Eddie’s as he sat down on the bed next to him. 

Eddie was still laughing a little, but it was quieter, more confused now. “Not into that- Richie you’re like the biggest horndog I know, isn’t that your label or some--”

“No- like.. I’m not into /that/” Richie said, looking up at Eddie with a dead serious face.

Oh… _oh_. “You mean you’re- oh..” Eddie said, his voice a little breathless like the shock had knocked the wind out of him. “Oh..” 

Richie watched as Eddie’s eyes flickered up and down him, in a way that was almost sizing him up- determining something…

It made him fucking sweat. Was Eddie- like judging him or something? “I’m sorry, did I offend you?” He asked with a cocked eyebrow, making a face.

And then, Eddie was kneeling above Richie, reaching down and tilting the latter’s chin up, eyes wide like saucers as he slowly ran his thumb over Richie’s bottom lip. “I’m gonna do something, is that okay?” Eddie asked, the tension in the room thick and heavy. 

Richie didn’t know what was happening, but he didn’t want it to stop- 

Both boys jumped back when the RV door pulled open with a sharp squeak. 

**Author's Note:**

> hi guys!!  
> my name is chip, and im the author :)  
> this is my first fic on here, so I hope you like it  
> please leave a comment if you can wanna  
> i hope you enjoy this story.
> 
> xoxo.  
> awkward girl


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